Over Poetry and Death
by Jokerfest
Summary: AU,sort of. Peter has failed New York. As a singer and a junkie he has managed to make himself forget his failings,but an unlikely person comes to drag him back to reality. However, Peter doesn't want to be saved and for awhile they both fall.Sy/Pe Yaoi
1. My Personal Death

**Alright so I've never took characters so out of their element before. It's kind of strange and a completely new thing, but it felt like something I had to do. In this AU I have a hint of the first season's storyline. I mean a small small hint. I think the only thing that they have in common is the New York thing. Which in my version Peter did not save. Anyway I really have no idea what I'm going to do with this but keep reading, offer suggestions, help me out a little. I seriously think this story has some potential to it, and I want to see it through. The song is New Poetry by Innerpartysystem and I hope that you like it. And I do not wn any of the Heroes characters they belong to Tim Kring.**

He inhaled deeply, that initial burn, his eyelashes fluttering furiously. He tilts his head back his long bangs hanging over his face like a curtain.

Oh, it's the dust, white smoke, magic, roiling through his brain and making things haze so beautifully. He cuts, his shaking hands cutting the white, smoothing it back, cutting again.

Blow, it's so good.

He can forget his blonde haired angel. He can forget that broken look as he failed, as he crushed her dreams.

_~I used to think that you were pure_

_But now I see that you're just empty~_

He could forget the stern eyes of his brother, could almost forget the older man's betrayal. His hands stopped cutting he leaned over and his upper body rolled back as the white powder rode over his senses and shattered his aching thoughts.

_~Oh, lie to me, it's the new poetry_

_It's the language that we speak~_

He wanted to hate, to be angry, but he was afraid he didn't deserve the right. He lay back against the pillows of the couch, his hands spread out uselessly. He looked at the ceiling. Did Christ lie this way, doomed, waiting for it to end? Did every color look brighter? Peter wondered.

_~I've become numb_

_I've become numb~_

He tried to move his thoughts away from the martyr and focus on the room. It was a small apartment he had managed to rent with his earnings. The ceiling was an off white, dusty and forlorn. He tried to take himself back to a time when it was new, but he couldn't. He didn't want to think back to any other time he only wanted to be in the moment.

"Peter."

He turned his head weakly.

_~You know I love you, but you might be the death of me_

_Hold me down, suffocating, please let me breathe~_

It was his devil and destroyer, his lover and friend. He smiled crookedly and crooked a finger at his possessor.

"Peter, this has to stop."

Was it care that resided in those usually hard brown eyes? Maybe the blow had done more damage than he thought. He chuckled and waved his hand as if to chase those pitying brown eyes away.

"Peter..."

"I like it this way, Gabriel. Besides you know...I'll only heal afterwards."

"They took that away don't you remember Peter? Peter!"

_~Kiss kiss, lights out, I've got to, we've got to, _

_You know I loved you but you're gonna be the death of me~_

"You don't fuck me anymore," Peter muttered plainly.

Diamond hard those eyes became as the taller man yanked him standing by his collar. Peter grinned and blew a strand of hair from his face.

"I'm numb. It doesn't hurt when you do that, not like it used to. Remember when you cut me open? Heh, you tried to kill me 'n Mohinder, but you were only upset because he wouldn't bang you."

"Shut the fuck up Peter!"

_~I've got to tear away from you_

_I left you bruised, you left me broken~_

"Why are you really mad...Sylar?"

Peter hardly noticed the unforgiving plaster of the wall as he was forced against it. He saw tears sparking in his lover's eyes.

He wasn't sorry.

"I shouldn't have bought you any of that shit."

_~Oh, don't try to speak, if you do one thing for me_

_Make yourself numb_

_Just make yourself numb~_

"You shouldn't have bought me any. You _hear_ yourself? Who died and made you Peter Petrelli? Are you gonna save me Gabriel? Save me the way I saved New York?"

"Fuck you!"

His head felt even more hazed as it banged against the wall. He sighed as lips pressed firmly against his mouth. A forceful tongue pushed into his mouth, drinking him, sucking out his soul. He responded weakly, his breath coming in short gasps.

_~You know I love you, but you might be the death of me_

_Hold me down, suffocating, please let me breathe_

_Kiss kiss, lights out, I've got to, we've got to~_

The mouth pulled away, a rope of saliva still connecting them. He glanced up at the eyes that had now turned black. They were like shark's eyes inky and depthless. He wanted those unforgiving eyes, he wanted Sylar, not Gabriel.

_~You know I loved you but you're gonna, you gonna_

_You know I love you, you might be me the death of me_

_Might be the death of me~_

He deserved to be damned. And he wanted to be. As his angry angel pulled down his pants he did nothing but wriggle his hips to help. They were both naked from the waist down, both hard, aching, hungry. The pain that came with his lover entering him unprepared made his head ache and haze. He didn't feel so numb and he screamed that fact loudly in his lover's ears.

_~Oh you know might be the death of me~_

He felt a hand hoist his leg higher until it was against sturdy hips. He groaned as he felt Sylar hit his prostate. He felt high again, higher because the pain made everything sweeter. He tried to move his own hips to get the impaling organ deeper. He tried to let his hands press into Sylar's back so that the man would thrust harder and break him completely, because he didn't want to be fixed.

_~Oh you might be the death of me~_

His other leg found its way around Sylar's hips. His arms were being held firmly in Sylar's large hand. He was being fucked within an inch of his life and he was so close...

_~You might be death~_

_­­_"This-_FUCK-_this what you-_ugggghh_-wanted Peter," Sylar growled in his ear. The question was punctuated with a harsh thrust that made him scream until he was hoarse.

"Fuck, _yesss_," he sobbed as he reached his climax. He felt Sylar still moving and then a pulse and a steady stream of liquid shoot through him. He groaned, he cried.

They both sank down after a few more minutes. And Peter found himself even more shattered than before. Gabriel held him as he cried even though he tried to shake him away.

He deserved to be damned. He deserved to be in hell.

_~Says you might be the death of me~_

But Gabriel, his merciful angel, refused to let him fall.


	2. Familiar Faces

**Hey guys back with another chapter. As I write I'm still shaping a backstory, but so far I haven't had a reason to confront that issue yet. As always guys reviews are love, and no I do not own Heroes.**

Peter opened his eyes blearily. The colorful haze he had experienced disappeared. He was somewhat off his high and real life was steadily streaming in. He was in bed but he couldn't remember getting there himself.

_Gabriel?_

He sat up and glanced around the small apartment. He wasn't surprised to see that Gabriel had left. It wasn't unlike the other times, getting a guilt fuck and then finding that he was alone again. He laid back down and closed his eyes struggling to remember what day it was.

He slowly remembered that yesterday had been a Wednesday. Today he was supposed to go down to Spiral Black. He had to sing. He rolled out of bed, still naked and headed for the bathroom. Before stepping into the shower Peter always stared into the mirror. He needed to see that he wasn't some shadow, that he wasn't gone completely. He needed to see that there was something still there to be broken.

Brown hair.

Brown eyes.

Purple bruises beneath his eyes.

Split lip.

Peter wanted to punch the glass, wanted to but he knew he couldn't heal. A buzz echoed from down the hall. Peter sighed grabbed a towel and went to the door. He pressed the com button.

"Who is it?"

"Open up Peter, it's us."

Peter sighed, this was part of the program that he hated. He couldn't heal, couldn't be a hero, not with them always coming. This time he at least recognized the agents. He buzzed the man in, unlocked the door and went to sit on the sofa.

The door opened revealing Noah and the Haitian. Peter saw them eye with him with both pity and disgust. He usually didn't warrant that look from the strangers who were only there to do their job. Noah and the Haitian however had seen him at his best, he wondered how he looked to them now.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Noah said as he opened pulled a needle from his jacket pocket. Peter stuck out his arm. He could practically feel the two agents eyes on his arms looking over his track marks, the bruises.

"Peter..."

"Just gimme the fuckin' shot and go," he muttered hoarsely.

"She wouldn't want to see you like this."

"As if she wants to see me. I let New York die, I let everyone down, now gimme the fucking shot so I can get back to my shower."

Noah nodded and Peter felt disheartened that the man had given up so easily.

He hadn't wanted him to.

They moved back towards the sofa and sat down Noah took a band and wrapped it around Peter's upper arm. Peter clenched his fist and then opened. Noah felt for the vein and then plunged the needle in letting the drugs invade his system. He gasped as the flicker of powers he had once had went out. He sighed heavily and then looked over at Noah. The older man patted him on the shoulder and stood.

"See you in three months," Noah said trying to lighten the situation.

"How do you know?"

Noah pretended as if he didn't hear the comment as he and the Haitian stepped out.

Peter stood and glanced back at the bathroom door. He then looked over at the dresser where he kept his stash of drugs hidden.

He could shower later. All he wanted was to go back to the place where he could forget.


	3. Trying for Redemption

**Another pleasantly dark chapter. As I wrote this I decided how to pick the songs in the future. I realized that the best band suited to Peter's mood is Innerpartysystem. They have a heady, dreary, almost 'worship me even though I'm broken' sounding thing going on. Anyway this particular song is Everyone is the Same and it really is pretty fitting for this chapter. And as always reviews are love. And by the way the ' ' surrounding some of the sentences is just Peter thinking to himself as opposed to my narration.**

Moshing, grinding, faceless bodies moved making Peter's head sway. He moved past them his worn red hoodie draped over his face. He was barely clinging to reality, everyone was moving too fast and he was going too slow. He repeated bits and pieces of the lyrics under his breath as he moved backstage.

"Hey man you're late, people are gettin' fuckin' restless."

Peter glanced up at one of the light techs, Aaron and smiled softly. Aaron took off the hood and looked at Peter's face. Peter could feel the man's gaze rove over his lips over his bruised eyes but he couldn't tell what the older man was thinking, not anymore, anyway.

"I'm here now."

"Barely. What the hell-"

"I'm fine, lemme just get setup."

Aaron sighed and nodded leaving Peter alone to his thoughts.

Peter looked into his pocket and took out the small packet. He already had drugs streaming through his system taking the edge off everything. How much more would it take to kill him?

"Peter."

Four brown eyes met.

"How much did you take?"

The younger man shook his head and put the blow in his jeans pocket. He took off his jacket revealing the thin black tee and tossed it to Gabriel. Gabriel held the jacket and walked over to Peter his brows drawn in a look of sadness.

"Save yourself Peter."

"Can't do that anymore, can't save anyone."

"So the plan is t' kill yourself, after everything...to just die of an overdose?"

Gabriel shoved Peter making the younger man stumble. Peter clutched his head trying to hold back the tumbling black that was his memory. He closed his eyes and shuddered as he remembered the falling skeletons, dust over bones, red sky over black, everyone falling because of him...and Gabriel.

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you! You aren't supposed to die!"

"Who says! Who says!? You? Where the fuck do you get off tellin' me what to do? Don't forget I wasn't the only one who killed people!"

Gabriel grabbed Peter by the shoulders and for a split second Peter saw the glare of the past predator. He remembered running from those eyes, being afraid that they'd be the last things he'd see. He remembered dying for the first time the last time Gabriel had looked at him that way. Gabriel seemed to remember that day too because he let go of Peter's shirt and stepped back.

"I-I'm sorry. I'll...I'll see you back at the apartment."

"Gabriel-"

"Hey! Peter, what're you doin' man get your ass outside." Peter growled as he turned towards Aaron.

"Just give me a minute I want-" Peter turned only to find that Gabriel had disappeared.

* ...*...*...*

_~If you were somebody else, if you were somebody else~_

And he wanted to be, badly.

~_If you were somebody else, if you were somebody else_

_If you were~_

He didn't want to be Peter. The Bible had said that Peter had forsaken Christ. Peter had failed. Peter had had a chance to change the world, to do right by man. He did not want the name his mother had burdened him with, didn't want to be doomed to a life in the dark.

_~Nobody sees you when the lights are off_

_Nobody sees you when the mirror talks, they have everything~_

He glanced down at the sweating bodies beneath his feet. He was above them but beneath them all at once. Some came here from New York having nowhere to go but here to drown their pain. He wanted to end the song, to apologize, but who would believe him?

'I ended the lives of twenty million people. I know the people who planned for me to do so, I'm related to two of them.'

_~They have everything_

_I'm sinking more in this familiar hole~_

'I killed your mother, your father, your sister...your brother. My brother killed me too, made me be a monster so he could be your hero.'

_~A little smaller than it was before, they have everything_

_So perfect and afraid~_

' I am truly sorry'

They would never hear the truth. They were oblivious, sleeping amongst the lions, hearing his words, but not knowing he was their devil in chains. He raised his hands to the crowd and they shouted his name in praise. He bent to claim his kisses as scantily clad men and women grabbed at his shirt, his sweating skin. A tug on his lips reopened the wound, someone licked the blood away.

_~They say the war is over_

_I say it's just the start_

_We have been fighting for so long_

_To hide the way we are~_

He bit his lip, copper heavy and thick on his tongue. He continued to sing, to claim oblivion for himself.

_~I wonder aimlessly on to their side_

_I can relate but can't afford the price, the price I pay_

_Oh they have everything~_

'I couldn't save you, hate me instead.'

_~Oh will they love you when the lights are on_

_Oh will they love you when the lights are on_

_I want everything_

_I wanna be perfect~_

But they didn't. It was sick. It was all too much to comprehend that because of him, through him, they could never hate him. They loved him. And he could never tell them the truth that would make them hate him, and keep him from breaking. Spiraling Black, was his little club in Hell.

*...*...*...*

His fingers were shaking, his body was craving again. He noted, having been a nurse and currently being a junkie that he was craving his fix a lot faster than last time. He moved along the stage collecting the tips that had been thrown throughout the show.

"Peter! Peter over here!"

Peter turned to see two young girls. They looked too young to be in the club, they looked to be about _her _age.

"Hey, um, we're really huge fans of your music," the more outspoken girl said. Her hair was a blondish red hue. She had freckles scattered across her slightly upturned nose.

"Y-yeah," the shorter brown haired girl said shyly. She wouldn't look at him, her lashes dusted her cheeks as she eyed her untied boots.

"Come on Amy! Don't mind her she's just a little shy."

"Not at all. So how can I help you two?"

The more outspoken one giggled, the other one Peter noted fondly, blushed.

"We were, um...wondering if you could sign our gloves," the shy one stuck out her gloved hand. It was white and had a black heart stitched between finger and thumb.

"Sure. Gotta marker or somethin'?"

The two of them looked at each other.

"I do."

Peter looked up. It was his niece,his angel, the only reason that he was still alive. Months ago she had begged him not to take his life. He wasn't going to, but she hadn't seen him recently, hadn't seen that he planned to let the drugs kill him instead.

*...*...*...*

"I thought I told Nathan not to tell you where I was."

"When has your brother ever made a promise he could keep?"

Peter nodded a pained smile on his face.

"Thought you were in school."

"It's December silly."

"Yeah..?

"Winter break? Peter...what's happened to you?"

Claire was looking at him, her large blue eyes trying to identify the problem. Just looking at her made Peter feel guilty. It was part of the reason he begged Nathan to keep her away.

"I could heal you! We could go to my house right no-"

"No! Please Claire, I can't," a sob almost escaped Peter's throat but he held it back, swallowed it down to join the rest of his bitter unshed tears," I don't deserve it."

"Peter..."

"Go home Claire. Don't come here anymore." He looked away as he said the words. He didn't want to see the tearful look, her trembling lips, he could hold no more guilt on his shoulders. Peter wasn't strong enough.

Under his breath:

_~Everyone, everyone is the same_

_Everyone, everyone is so damaged and ashamed~_

But he could still hear her slam the door to the exit. He just wasn't singing loud enough.


	4. Let Go

**Hey guys sorry for the long time it took to update. The charger to my PC was broken and I had to get that sorted before I could post this chapter. Eight to ten days I tell you! It may take longer for me to make another update becasue they sent me back a charger that charges only SOMETIMES. FML. Anyway I hope that you enjoy this chapter and that you comment. And also I do not own any of the Heroes characters they belong to Tim Kring.**

The hardest part was reaching for the phone. What was always hard for nearly all things was the beginning.

Peter rubbed his loose fitting sweater's sleeve under his nose.

Cough.

The second hardest part was typing in the numbers. Each press was a press towards remembering, it was the heading towards the familiar part of life. Calling your brother, heading off to see Mr. Deveaux, kissing mom hello, leaping off a building the coattails of a much loved coat flapping and catching a cool breeze. Flight, laughter, discovery, freedom.

Click.

No, the hardest part was redialing after many attempts and constantly reassuring the heart that thudding so hard wasn't necessary. The sweat beaded on shaking hands, hands that struggled to hold the receiver.

"Pete."

"Nathan," Peter breathed out. His ribs expanded, his breath made the plastic of the phone slightly moist. A part of Peter's mind was angry, with just a sound of Nathan's voice he had already forgiven the older man his err. He had planned to answer the phone and give his brother the cursing out that he deserved. But lately...

Intentions were never carried out as they were supposed to, be it a telephone call or saving a city.

"What can I do for you Pete?"

_'What can you do for me? Perhaps be my brother for once instead of the golden boy, head in class, a senator of New York, instead of my betrayer, the President of the United States.'_

"Nathan, I-I...I miss you," and it was a shaking whisper that came as Peter clutched the phone tightly to his ears.

"Peter, what's-are you alright? Do you need me to come up there?"

"I dunno, don't know anything anymore."

"Do you need money, just talk to me Peter."

"No, just...talk to me. How's mom? What's the weather like in DC? You find Bin Laden, just anything."

Peter sat on the couch the cordless phone pressed to his ear. Nathan's voice so much unlike his own burbled easily and confidently over the comings and goings of the capital. It wasn't so much that Peter wanted to listen to what was happening, it was more the fact that he hadn't heard his brother's voice in months.

The voice slowed down, there was nothing left to say.

"Peter, what's going on?"

"You told Claire."

"She's your niece Pete, she wanted t' see you."

"I don't want to see her, why'd you do it?"

"I thought...I thought that she could bring you back. We all miss you here."

"I'm never comin' back, thought we took care of that."

"Did we?"

"Nathan...I'm different, _we're _different. You're not my brother and I'm not yours. You own the free world, I do blow between gigs. We were never the same and now...it's just more obvious."

"Peter I can fix this, just-just let me help you for Chrissakes!"

"A long time ago I woulda said yes in a heartbeat. I trusted you but Claire was right. You were never with us. 'Caus-a you things'll never be right, _I'll_ never be right. I gotta go...thanks for talkin' t' me."

"Pete."

Silence.

"I love you Peter."

"I do too, but I'm workin' on that."

Peter hung up. No, perhaps he had been wrong. A tear fell and rolled down the hard plastic curve of the phone as he placed it back on its stand. Perhaps the hardest part was not grabbing the phone again and begging for his brother back.

"Peter."

"I couldn't even get mad," he muttered surreally as long muscled arms enclosed him.

He let his own arms encircle his lover, pulling him closer, inhaling the strange scent of oil, the stinging sweet smell of benzine and something wholly predator that was embedded in every pore. He leaned into Gabriel's neck, let his tongue lave gently over the thick pulsing artery that lay beneath. Gabriel sighed in content his large hands palming the warm skin of his lower back. He pulled away letting Gabriel pull his sweater over his head. He wore nothing underneath.

Even without his lost power of reading minds he could read the worry etched on his lover's face. The older man was gauging how much weight he had lost, the bruises in the crook of his arms, wondering if they should still continue.

"Make it stop hurting," Peter said looking from beneath his long hair.

"Just let me save you, just this once, please."

Peter shook his head and stepped forward letting his unsteady hands close over Gabriel's forearms. He kissed soft pliant lips. He smiled reached up and cupped the older man's face deepening the kiss until it was all that either of them could think of.

Kissing, they began moving backwards until the mattress was pressing into the back of Gabriel's knees, until he had fallen over on top of Gabriel's still clothed chest. He dipped his tongue into the hot mouth that suckled on his lips. They pulled away from each other so that they could get more comfortable on the old mattress. Springs moaned and keened beneath their weight and only achieved a higher pitch as Peter kneeled hard into the mattress. Gabriel began removing his own shirt revealing tan skin and a chest adorned with soft straight hairs. Peter licked chapped lips his tongue touching on the line where Gabriel had bitten him last time.

"I want this to be this way forever Peter. I don't want to have this go away."

Tears. Peter didn't understand how any one could cry for him. He wondered what it was they saw when they looked at him, what it was that made them feel he deserved their pity. A clear line of liquid leaked from eye to curved pink lips.

"After. We'll go tomorrow okay? We'll go check out a rehab center."

"You have to mean it."

Peter let his hand find Gabriel's thudding heartbeat. His fingers warmed as they pressed on his lover's chest. Nowadays he always felt so cold but he supposed it was only another sign of him getting worse. He didn't want to drag more people on his spiral. If his addiction were to hurt Gabriel he didn't know what he'd do. There was no one else that could save him, no one else that he could bear to see him this way.

"I mean it. If you...if you want me t' do it, I'll do it."

Gabriel grabbed his hand and pulled him close until their chests were against each other's. The fervent kisses that captured his lips next were sweet chaste and almost thankful in their eagerness. Hands grasped his bottom and he gasped as his and Gabriel's hips met. Lips nipped and sucked on his neck and he looked heavenward to allow better access.

'I can do this, I can be this if he wants me to.'

................

He wasn't being fucked, not like he was used to. As his lover prepared him he realized that they were making love. There were no harsh words no forcefullness behind any of the motions, it was tender all of it. As his lover grabbed his hips and pushed into him he couldn't help but think that this was even more painful than the time a few days before. This agonizing sweetness was making him ache despite the driving length that hit his sweet spot until his vision blurred. He screamed beneath the emotional onslaught that was tearing at his defenses. He needed to stop, he needed release, he needed air, he needed drugs so badly his teeth were clenching.

"Peter," Gabriel whispered gently, "just let go, we're fine."

And he did.

Tears mingled with blood as the wound on his lip reopened. He came with an airy gasp, his spent cock in large gentle hands.

He could feel his lover's cock softening inside him, his body curled over his like a shield. They lay down together on the bed his back flush against a warm chest. He closed his eyes and he didn't dream.

Warm hands pressed firmly against his stomach, he laid his own over top. He could never bear having to let go.


End file.
